


Goodwill Towards Men

by Capucine



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Christmas, Drabble, Gen, Inspired by Music, Loneliness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim is alone at Christmas--more alone than ever, what with the deaths of many of his friends and family and his lack of contact with the rest of his family. And he's sick too.</p>
<p>Cass remembers, though, even if their paths aren't meeting up right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodwill Towards Men

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Over You, a cover by Cassadee Pope! Sad, I guess. :P

It wasn’t really all that funny that Tim was crying at Christmas.

It was the happiest time of the year! Family! Presents! Peace on Earth and goodwill towards men!

But it really wasn’t. And the snarky holiday voice in the back of Tim’s head just kept the tears running despite trying to make him laugh. Or feel awful. Back of the head voice had been a bitch lately.

Family? He didn’t have that. Most of them were dead, and the others…didn’t give a shit. Believed him kinda crazy. He _knew_ Batman was alive, but they just couldn’t see it. 

Presents? He almost did laugh at that one. He should probably get some presents for the local charities…or he should have, had it not already been Christmas. Bruce would have liked that. Not that he was dead, but he wasn’t here to do it himself.

Peace on Earth? Ha. Ha, no. That wouldn’t happen ever, until everyone was gone in like a billion years (or sooner, global warming and shit). Especially tonight, in Gotham, as everyone was drunk and breaking things and hurting people. As happened. Tim wasn’t there now.

Goodwill towards men? No. Everyone was a cutthroat in Tim’s world, in many ways, some of them literal. Damian would love to kill him, for instance. Not even getting into people who were _supposed_ to be his enemies.

It was the most miserable Christmas Tim could have imagined, and he’d been through some pretty miserable ones. 

Being sick, alone or sad was enough on its own. He was all three.

And he was curled in his bed in his safehouse, crying himself to sleep. Waiting for the fever to break, but knowing that was the smallest of his problems. 

He eventually did drift off.

He didn’t ever see the wraith-like form slip in, put a cup of orange juice on his bed table, cover him with an extra blanket, and kiss his forehead. 

Or see her look longingly, sadly, at his sleeping form.

But he knew Cassandra must have been there by morning. He was The Detective, after all. And he still wondered what his adoptive sister was up to and how to help her.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Easter?


End file.
